


Words for the Dead

by atamascolily



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Character Study, Force Visions, Gen, Grief, Jawas - Freeform, Missing Scene, Tatooine Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: While waiting for Luke to return, Obi-Wan muses on life, death and the future as he, Threepio, and Artoo hold a funeral outside the wreckage of the Jawa sandcrawler.





	Words for the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Quelques mots pour les morts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16354001) by [Perspicacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perspicacia/pseuds/Perspicacia)



> One of the small, quiet details that makes me love _A New Hope_ so much is in the scene where Luke returns to the wreckage of the Jawa sandcrawler to tell Obi-Wan he's ready to leave Tatooine and train to be a Jedi. In the background, C-3PO is carrying the crumpled body of a dead Jawa to a funeral pyre next to R2-D2. There's so much pathos here, all unspoken, that it makes my heart melt, and I can't help but imagine what happened between those three while Luke was gone. 
> 
> According to the prequels, young Anakin Skywalker built Threepio, so Obi-Wan ought to at least comment to himself on the resemblance (even if he doesn't know for sure it's the exact same droid), but I really didn't want to get into that, so I've left that particular detail kinda vague and focused on what's given to us in _A New Hope_ instead. 
> 
> Frankly, a lot of Obi-Wan's scenes only make sense if he has some foreknowledge of what's to come. Fortunately, there's already an excellent canon explanation for that in _The Empire Strikes Back_.

"And that would lead them back -- _home_ \--" 

Ob-Wan Kenobi didn't chase after Luke as the young man rushed from the wreckage of the Jawa sandcrawler back towards the landspeeder. In his younger days, before his long, solitary exile on this dusty planet, he had learned the hard way that sometimes - paradoxically - the best thing to do was to let go completely, stop trying to control things. And as a result, the entire galaxy had paid the price for his complete, utter and spectacular failure. 

Perhaps if he had chosen differently twenty years ago, things would be very different now. Perhaps the sandy-haired young man racing for the landspeeder would have grown up knowing the secrets that Obi-Wan had spent the last two decades hiding. Perhaps Anakin Skywalker would be by his side - 

And perhaps not. It was impossible to know for sure, even through the Force, and what was past could not be changed. But he'd paid too high a price the last time he tried to stop a Skywalker from following his heart, and the entire galaxy had suffered as a result. 

Besides, Obi-Wan was older now, and it was harder rushing after younger folk than it used to be. But he didn't need to. And although he never would have believed it when he was Luke's age, there were ways other than brute strength to achieve your goals. 

So he turned and projected his voice enough so that Luke would hear him clearly, even at a distance, without the need to yell. "Wait, Luke! It's too dangerous!" He left his other arguments unspoken, ones he knew Luke would refuse to hear: _You don't need to see this. It's better if you don't go. It's hard enough to see strangers slaughtered, but when it's your family -_

But he wasn't surprised when Luke ignored him anyway, as he fired up the landspeeder and zoomed out of sight. He didn't need to use the Force to know Luke's thoughts: a desperate hope that he could get back to the Lars' homestead in time to save them. 

But that cause, noble as it was, was already lost. The evidence from the sandcrawler wreckage was all too clear: Owen and Beru were already dead. 

Obi-Wan hadn't felt their deaths personally - neither were particularly strong in the Force (and therefore easy to detect from a distance), though that in itself meant little. He'd been too preoccupied with keeping certain historical facts from Luke to sense anything like that. 

But the Force had shown him something else - visions, persistent over the years, that filled his meditations and his dreams: An eerily familiar young man lying unconscious in a desert canyon, while a blue and silver droid skulked in the shadows. An endless sea of rocks floating in empty space. Metallic corridors lined with blast doors and stormtroopers, and the harsh, stilted sound of mechanical breathing. The flash and hum of a blood-red lightsaber, the pain as it struck his body and he collapsed - 

The Force couldn't show him everything. It could only show him hints, glimpses, potential. It was up to him to take that knowledge and use it to shape the future as best he could. And this morning, the Force had steered him out into the Judland Wastes. When he'd scared a gang of Tusken Raiders and realized the identity of their victim, Obi-Wan knew it was the beginning of the end. Things were in motion now, and anything was possible. 

(Now that it was happening, now that the end was coming soon, he was so calm. There was nothing to struggle against anymore, only acceptance of his own fate, with the hope that his sacrifice would be worth it.)

But there were other ways of knowing besides the Force. He had spent enough time in the deserts of Tatooine, hunting, tracking, wandering, and asking pointed questions, to discern the story that had unfolded here in the wreckage of the Jawa sandcrawler. The scorch marks on the 'crawler were several hours old; the bantha tracks were significantly fresher; and yet they'd seen no sign of any Imperial forces on their travels.

It meant that soon as they had gotten the information they needed from the Jawas - which would have been fast, Jawas were cowards when confronted with a stronger opponent, preferring to run rather than fight, and would have hastily surrendered and hoped that begging and bribes would protect them from the government forces - the stormtrooper units had split up. Some stayed behind to cover their tracks at the sandcrawler. The slaughter of the entire tribe, the gaffe sticks, the bantha tracks - the killings and the hasty cover-up spoke volumes about the value of the data in the R2 unit beside him. 

The other troops would go the Lars' moisture farm right away. They would knock politely (or not), ask for the droid, and whether Owen produced it or not, they would shoot him and Beru where they stood. Then they would burn the farm and make it look like an another Tusken Raider attack. As they had done with the Jawas here. No one on Tatooine would question it. Life on this planet was hard enough as it was without inviting more trouble. 

If Obi-Wan read the signs right, it was safe enough to let Luke go off on his own back to the farm. The Empire was brutal, but efficient in its tactics; its troops would not linger long after carrying out orders, especially with the coveted droid still unsecured. It was unlikely that any soldiers would stay behind in hopes of snaring the droid, or someone who could lead them to the droid. Subtlety was not their preferred strategy. They preferred to act, rather than wait. The only ones with any sense of real cunning were Vader and Palpatine, and Palpatine was likely too busy to be involved in this. 

As for Darth Vader, he would never again set foot on Tatooine. It was the main reason why Obi-Wan had chosen to exile himself here. If the Sith Lord ever stepped foot on the planet, Obi-Wan would have known it at once, but it had not happened in twenty years. If it did not happen now, at such a critical juncture, it never would. 

Obi-Wan didn't need to see what had happened to Owen and Beru; his imagination and memories provided enough details as it was. But Luke clearly needed to learn for himself. And if Obi-Wan tried to stop him, Luke would never trust him, never learn what he so desperately needed to learn: the ways of the Force. Luke had to make the choice to leave freely and willingly. He could not be coerced or cajoled, lest he become easy prey for the Dark Side. 

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that Owen and Beru had suffered and died for this. But it would tip the balance. It was clear from the eagerness in his voice that Luke had always wanted to leave Tatooine; but he held back because of his uncle's desperation and fear, with all its attendant stories. Absent such baggage, there was nothing to hold Luke here any longer. 

So instead of arguing, as he would have done in his younger days, he waited. He was used to solitude, but now he was far from alone: the golden protocol droid C-3P0 and the smaller, more troublesome R2 unit were here as well. And the former - by personality quirk or by deliberate design - was not taking the days' upheaval particularly well. 

"Do- do you think Master Luke will return, General Kenobi, sir?" Threepio ventured nervously. 

"Oh, yes." Obi-Wan chuckled, in spite of himself. "He'll be back. It is not a happy homecoming that awaits him however. We may be here for some time." 

"Is there anything I can do, sir?" 

Obi-Wan straightened. "Yes. You are a protocol droid, aren't you? Let's give these poor Jawas a proper burial." 

True to form, Threepio was thrilled to have something to do with himself - and to agonize over. "What sort of burial would you consider most appropriate under these circumstances? I'm afraid I'm not equipped for the more traditional forms - " 

"Build a pyre, then." Obi-Wan turned to the Artoo unit, who had been unable to climb up the steep slope to the sandcrawler wreckage, and so remained on the more level land below. "Can you provide a spark for us, my friend?" 

The Artoo unit beeped affirmatively, and projected a small lighter from one of its tool-socket storage areas. A tiny flame flickered on, wobbling but steady. 

"Very good." He turned to Threepio. "Please, begin." 

Threepio wasn't sure about it at first, but the bodies were light enough that he could easily carry them if he bent himself into the correct position. "I say! This has not been an application of my programming before." 

Obi-wan smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it has been too much a part of mine."

***

The Tatooine air was so dry that the Jawas' outer robes were already bone dry, though their bodies had not yet lost all their moisture. The fire caught readily, but the smoke was heavy and thick at first. Obi-Wan pulled a scarf over his nose and mouth until it subsided. Threepio waved his hands frantically to dissipate it, and fussed when he was unsuccessful, but the two droids were otherwise unaffected. 

Jawas were small and spindly, always cloaked and hooded when they ventured out from their massive and mobile mechanical homes so only their glowing amber eyes were visible. Most of the human settlers on Tatooine hated them, dismissing them as annoyances at best and downright obnoxious at worst. But they were relatively harmless if you knew their ways, and Obi-Wan would often visit their caravans when they passed by. He learned much news and gossip that way, and many of their tribal customs. He knew from the subtle cuts and folds of their hoods and belts that these Jawas were members of the K'issinigick familial grouping, which tended to frequent the section of desert between the Judland Wastes and Anchorhead. They were kin to many other clans, and there was as much trade as rivalry between the various bands. They would be missed. 

"I don't like to think about being shut off so abruptly," Threepio muttered quietly as he added another body to the pyre. "Thank the Maker that we've avoided such unpleasantness so far. Especially if it's my counterpart they're after. No doubt they'll tear me apart when they realize _I_ don't have any information for them - " 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and Threepio fell silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I understand it is custom to say a few words for the deceased - that is - " Threepio ventured. 

Obi-Wan cut him off again with another throat-clearing. He spread his hands in front of him, palms down, out toward the pyre. He could understand the Jawas' language well enough, but was a poor speaker, since the human throat could only make about half the required sounds. Still, he tried. 

"Your kin benefit from your goods," he said, in a rough approximation of the Jawas' native tongue. "Your possessions have worthy owners. You have attained the highest honors of trade, and your loved ones celebrate your bargaining prowess. You go on to the lands where all things that are desirable are abundant, where we will join you when our time is done." 

And though it wasn't part of Jawa culture at all, there was one other thing he couldn't leave out. "And may the Force be with you," he said, switching back to Basic. He thought of the Jawas of K'issinigick Tribe, innocent bystanders in the Empire's zeal for total dominion. Of Owen and Beru. "Always." 

The Artoo unit moaned softly. 

Threepio was just picking up the last, sad, little corpse, when Obi-Wan heard the distinctive whine of Luke's speeder in the distance. When the speeder came into view a few seconds later, it was clear from the stricken, stunned expression on Luke's face that Obi-Wan had been right about Owen and Beru's fate. 

Threepio hesitated, thought about saying something, and clearly thought better of it. 

"There's nothing you could have done, Luke," Obi-Wan said quietly as Luke approached him, unable to meet his eyes. "You would have been killed, too, and the droids would now be in the hands of the Empire."

Even now, Luke could still say no. But when he looked up, there was a determination in his face that Obi-Wan had never seen before. For the first time that day, he seemed more like a man than a boy. There was real pain there. "I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing for me here now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father." 

It was everything Obi-Wan had hoped for. And yet, there was no joy, no triumph in his victory. He nodded, patted Luke's shoulder, and together they walked back to the landspeeder, the two droids trailing in their wake. Quiet. Thoughtful. Grieving. 

They left the smoking pyre behind without a word, the landspeeder screaming in the wind.


End file.
